First time
by kouw
Summary: Experimental one-shot detailing the Carson's wedding night (tumblr request)


**A/N:** This is for Gelana - because she asked. It's for **everyone** in the Chelsie-nichecorner. Because there is no such thing as too much wedding night smut. And because it's still such a very long time until we get to see that wedding. Which had better really happen. _Anyway_. There might be some mild spoilers, but I think you guys can handle it. Also: **turn away now if 'old people' sex squicks you!**

* * *

Later (much later, when the sun has been gone so long it's almost time for its return) she'll remember the softness in her husband's eyes when she looked up at him and how she could see their future in them. She'll remember how they walked back down the aisle hand in hand. Mrs Patmore wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief. Daisy beamed at them happily. Mr Bates nodded at Charles. Lady Mary looked very serious; Master George waved at them from his place besides Nanny.

She'll recall how they stood in front of their house, their new home. How Charles unlocked the door and held her hand tightly in his as he stepped over the threshold (and how relieved she was he didn't tried to carry her over.) How she put her bouquet on the sideboard in the hall and she toed off her new shoes that left an angry red mark on her heel.

They went up the stairs, step by step, hand in hand and hesitated before entering their bedroom with the last rays of sun streaming in and highlighting the bedspread. The voice of the vicar reverberated in her mind:

 _With my body I thee worship._

She will remember how Charles's fingers trembled as he helped her out of her dress and how boldly coloured specks of confetti littered the bedroom floor. How she closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her; properly.

A kiss that led to more kisses that led to more clothes being undone and falling on the floor. To the undoing of her corset and to her hair falling down her shoulders and his lips softly kissing a path from her mouth to her cheek down the side of her neck. To his thumb hooking under the strap of her slip. The palm of her hand on his vest, feeling his heart beat and his chest rise and fall with every breath.

Breath that felt hot against her skin; the puffs of air drawing attention to every kiss he placed along her collarbone. They slowly moved towards the bed and turned it down unseeing. She would forget the urgency with which she pulled her husband against herself, the back of her knees pressed against the bedframe and how she kissed him hard on the mouth, unwilling to wait any longer, her blood racing through her body, making her tingle all over.

His hands ran over her knees and found the clips of her garters (new, everything under that dress was new and untried) and undid them. He rolled the stocking down, then the other and his fingertips danced over the inside of her thigh.

They struggled a bit with his belt and trousers and she giggled (she didn't know she could still giggle) at the sight of him in his underwear and socks, and thought how unattractive socks really are. He got rid of them fast and returned his attention to her.

He connected the freckles on her shoulders by kissing lines between them. The back of his fingers slid over her satin-covered breasts and she let out a sound she had never heard herself make before. His questioning eyes - in that moment - only made her love him more and she raised herself up and pushed him back into the mattress, his head just beside the pillow. She didn't think about it, just straddled his lap and leaned over to kiss him again. He steadied her then with his hands on her hips and he felt so good in her arms as she held on to him too.

* * *

The air is heavy between them, charged with expectation and tenderness.

"I love you," he whispers and she holds her breath, a tear spilling onto her cheek.

She nods. "I love _you._ "

Achingly slowly he inches up the hem of her slip and bumps his hand softly over the cotton of her underwear. He kisses her mouth again, his lips half-open, wrapping around hers, the tip of his tongue touching hers, carefully, not too fast, not too demanding, experimenting with movement and pressure.

She cups his cheeks and lets herself fall to the side and he is on top of her, his knee planted firmly between hers and she strains against him, delighting in being able to see the glimpse of hunger in his eyes. His breathing is getting heavier and hers is already loud.

 _Perhaps this is appropriate_ , she thinks. This last stretch of the journey before their life together begins. Or maybe it is only the first step. After today they will have changed and she can't think in what way except that in the morning she'll wake up beside him at the dawn of their future.

Her shift is bunched up under her and she lifts her hips, gently unwraps herself from his half-embrace to pull it over her head. He doesn't look down, only into her eyes and puts his arms around her, holding her close to him. He still has his vest on.

* * *

She will remember when he took his vest off and her bodies were pressed together freely for the first time. How his hands felt big on the small of her bare back and how his lips gently touches the slope of her breast until he gained more confidence and cupped them, lavishing them in nips and kisses.

How running a finger between the elastic of her knickers and her skin made her shiver and how his gently trying fingers made her tremble. How she arched under him as he started to figure out how to move against her. She'll happily recollect how a warmth turned into a need. That her husband struggled out of his shorts and she could feel him heavy against her thigh.

The almost painful friction of his slow movement through slick warmth that made her cry out and his stifled groan and instant stilling. How she wrapped herself around him, pulling him closer and kissed his lips, his cheek and she'll look back at how they moved together, her eyes fluttering closed, her voice echoing through the room in breathy moans and whimpers.

* * *

Her fingers dig into his shoulders and her nails leave marks. Her breath is erratic and Charles is moving faster over her. Within her. She never imagined ever being this close to anyone - not just with her body, but this… truly intimate. To feel his heart beat against her breasts, to smell his scent as the bed creaks. To feel this need to almost crawl into him completely.

The discomfort of earlier has dissipated and she pushes her shoulders into the mattress as she feels Charles beginning to shake.

"Wait…" he groans and he shifts, leaning on one arm and reaching down with a finger he furtively licked with the very tip of his tongue.

When he touches her - still moving, but slower, more determinedly - she cries out in shock and delight. The heat that she's felt before is expanding and she lets go of his shoulders to grab hold of the sheets (all crumpled under them, but she can't find it in herself to care.)

She is moaning. She says words she would never say outside of this room. In anyone else's company. Only here in the sanctity of their bedroom. Words of love - of deep devotion - and loud prayers existing of one or two words.

She never thought she would be able to love so deeply and to be loved in return so completely.

By the time Charles starts chanting her name (and he says 'Elsie' then, not Mrs Hughes, not Mrs Carson, simply her name and it makes her smile in the midst of this unfamiliar tempest) she moves with him instinctively. Easily.

* * *

He will fall asleep afterwards and she'll lie awake - wrapped in his arms, her legs tangled with his - to study his face and wonder how absolutely peaceful he'll look. She'll reflect that making love is wonderful and messy at the same time and that she is so happy that their marriage is more than one of convenient companionship.

When she finally falls asleep, she'll have found out that she doesn't care about their clothes strewn across the floor and that she is already getting used to sleeping besides someone else. With the light of the moon dancing on the walls, she'll tell herself that this first night as a married woman has been a great succes.

She'll mean it.

And she would be right - because the second night will be just as great a success as will the third. The fourth night will see her soaring over a precipice she never knew existed and from then on in, the Carsons will retire to their bedrooms early.

They have a lot of catching up to do.

* * *

 **A/N2:** I tried something new (as did they, hence the lack of diversity,) I don't know if it works, but it was a fun experiment - also: this has not been betaed. Please, let me know what you think!


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